


No more dancing around the subject

by newtmasdoesthedo



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: It's not really T, but Enjolras is a bit horny and there's like a brief scene, dancer!R, major fanboy!E, so I wanted to make sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2474516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtmasdoesthedo/pseuds/newtmasdoesthedo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Half an hour later he locked himself into his apartment, steeling himself as soon as he heard the first sound from the living room. “Are you decent or should I cover my eyes?”</p><p>Courfeyrac groaned from in there, “Awh man, he’s still a virgin then!”</p><p>A loud smack was heard and Enjolras allowed himself a smile because Combeferre was obviously getting the slapping done for him. “I’m still angry with you, Courf.” He pointed out, walking through the room and rolling his eyes when they were both lounging on the couch, Combeferre on top of Courfeyrac, resting snugly between his legs. Fortunately they were both dressed.</p><p>“How did it go? Is he amazing? Are you in love with him? Is he in love with you? Did you get a puppy and call it Courf?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	No more dancing around the subject

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This was inspired by [this](http://drinkwithmegrantaire.tumblr.com/post/100262743870/comfytaire-oh-my-gosh-what-about-grantaire-as-a) post on Tumblr. Jesse is amazing, go follow her.  
> 2\. Not much to say about this really.  
> 3\. Oh, that upper link is to my tumblr blog, come say hi!

The thing about Enjolras having a celeb-crush was, that it was completely convenient to him, and probably the reason he didn’t develop normal crushes that quickly. Enjolras was a busy man, and he didn’t have time for silly stuff like romance, so he crushed on celebs instead, who were conveniently unattainable and as such he got to have stupid butterflies and smile goofily when he thought of them _No, him_ and that was it. Of course he hadn’t confessed this to his friends himself, but Courf had seen the wallpaper on his phone and the ball had sort of started rolling from there to a point where each and every one of the Amis (except from Combeferre, bless his heart) would yell “Your boyfriend is on TV!” when Grantaire was on.  
  
And Enjolras hated it. He hated the teasing, because Enjolras had always been a very private person, and he didn’t see how his entire group of friends had to be involved in his (lack of) love-life. It was horrible and he daily wondered how he could best kill Courf and hide the body without anyone knowing that it had been him. Courfeyrac was one annoying fucker, but Enjolras definitely had the most motive for killing him – being his roommate and all. How he’d gotten himself into that situation was a wonder to him.  
  
On the positive side he got to meet a lot of new people.  
  
On the negative side half of them were as stupid as they were pretty and Courfeyrac would see them two or three times before falling in love with someone new. At least he’d been shagging up with Combeferre for a while now. That meant that Enjolras didn’t have to pretend to be interested in getting to know the next pretty face to walk through their door. It unfortunately also meant that Enjolras had to listen to the fuckfest that had been going on for two weeks now. So after he threatened for the 23 rd time (Courfeyrac had informed him that he was counting) to kill both of them in their sleep, Courfeyrac had finally decided to get a conscience.  
  
“Hey Enjolras?”  
  
He felt his eye twitch a bit already. “Yes?”  
  
“We have a present for you. All of us, because you’ve been working so hard lately. You’re going to have a nice weekend at a spa hotel. We know you haven’t been getting that much sleep lately, so maybe it would be good for you with a little vacation.” He said, making Enjolras roll his eyes so hard that for a second he was scared they were going to get stuck.  
  
“At least try to look like you feel bad about it.” He scoffed, knowing perfectly well that Courfeyrac would never feel bad about getting laid. He was regularly lecturing Enjolras on what he was missing out on.  
  
In detail.  
  
Horrible, horrible, horrific, graphic detail.  
  
The thought almost made Enjolras gag. Instead he decided to investigate further. “What’s in it for you?”  
  
Courfeyrac made a wounded noise and clutched at his own chest. “’Ferre!” he wailed, and Enjolras rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on, “Enjolras has taken it upon him to break my heart in two and stomp on it!”  
  
Combeferre’s reaction somehow eased Enjolras’ headache, “Courfeyrac, be nice to him, remember you’re trying to give him a present.”  
  
Courfeyrac pouted and shot him a dark look. “You’ll be making this up to me tonight.”  
  
Combeferre seemed pretty unimpressed. “Don’t I every night?” and then he eased up into a smug smile that actually had Enjolras gagging a little bit.  
  
“Not you too, Combeferre.” He moaned brokenly, and Courfeyrac flashed him a huge smile, obviously very proud of himself. “Fine. I’ll take the vacation. But if this is a prank I will skewer both of you and feed them to my dogs.”  
  
“You don’t have any dogs.” Combeferre calmly stated from the door before disappearing.  
  
“I’ll fucking _get_ one.” Enjolras snarled, and Courfeyrac started snickering happily next to him, bouncing up and down just a bit in his excitement.  
  
When he calmed down a bit (which took about three minutes of Enjolras staring at him menacingly and Courfeyrac bouncing on giddily) Enjolras took a deep breath, knowing that he was going to regret the next question. “Are you planning on having sex on every surface of the apartment, since you need me out?”   
Courfeyrac shot him an innocent look (that made Enjolras feel even worse about leaving) and grabbed his wrist. “Come on, let’s pack your stuff, you should change, want to look nice when you get there, and you should probably shower and do something about your hair too, you might meet someone.”  
  
The blonde rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to meet someone, how many times do I have to tell you-“  
  
“That you’re in love with someone who doesn’t know that you exist, yes yes, I know, but you _might._ ”  
  
“That’s not what I was going to say. I don’t have time for a boyfriend, Courfeyrac, I, opposed to you, have my priorities straight.” He explained sternly for about the millionth time.  
  
“Wouldn’t that be gay though?”  
  
A loud smack was heard and a wounded whine from Courfeyrac. “Don’t hurt him, I’ll need him later.” Sounded Combeferre’s muffled voice through the door, and Enjolras considered if he could bolt for the window and throw himself out of it before Courfeyrac attached himself to his legs and stopped him. Probably not, the fucker was a lot quicker than he looked.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
“Courfeyrac, I’m pretty sure this isn’t a hotel, it’s a ballroom, you’ve finally lost it. Combeferre has actually managed to fuck your brains out.” Enjolras stated drily, crossing his arms over his chest as the taxi-driver pulled up and stopped the car.  
  
Courfeyrac snickered happily. “It’s not for lack of trying, but we’re actually in the right place. Here, remember your wallet and phone, I changed your phone’s lockscreen to something else to save you the embarrassment. And before you get angry, remember that I love you, okay? I’m doing this to help you.”  
  
Enjolras’ confusion was complete when Courfeyrac pushed him out of the taxi and waved at him as it drove up, leaning out the window. “You’re meeting Grantaire!” he yelled, and then they disappeared. A small part of Enjolras hoped that Courfeyrac’s head would get smashed off while driving. A bigger part wanted to hug him. And the biggest part wanted to panic and lie down in fetal position. He was already grabbing for his phone, wanting to call Courfeyrac and force him to come back there and pick him up when a low whistle was heard from behind him, and he spun around, already working himself into a rage because he _didn’t fucking need this right now_ but as soon as he saw who was standing there the angry words died in his throat. _Shit_.  
  
Grantaire’s gaze should probably be illegal, because honestly Enjolras was pretty sure getting a look like that could kill a guy. It was all but predatory, and he felt a huge wave of heat roll through his entire body, managing somehow to feel slightly turned on, panicked and like a complete idiot at the same time. He was painfully aware that he was blushing, and he clenched and unclenched his fingers, uncertain of what to do. “Hi… Uh… I’m… the winner of the competition? I think? My friends entered me without me knowing, I didn’t know-“  
  
Grantaire just shrugged and smirked, all lithe muscle and grace, and he had the audacity to wink. “Well I’m certainly not one to complain. I’ll write your friends a thank you note, maybe send some flowers, how does you friend feel about lilies? He didn’t strike me as a roses kind of guy.”  
  
Enjolras felt his eye twitch yet again, flushed and confused, and he just shoved his hands into his pockets, desperate for this to become less awkward. “Uh. Yeah. Uhm.” He stuttered, his usually eloquence having abandoned him in his hour of need.  
  
“Let’s go inside before you faint, you look like you need a glass of water or something.” The guy remarked, holding the door open for Enjolras, and he actually almost fainted at that because _what the hell is even happening right now?_ He wasn’t entirely sure if he should love or hate the guy. He was already annoying, but it was like a sexy annoying, and Enjolras didn’t know exactly how to respond to the blatant flirting. He liked it. He really did. But he wasn’t sure what to say. He’d admired this person from afar for so long and suddenly he was right here in front of him, _flirting_ with him and sending him those looks that honestly went straight to Enjolras’ dick in a way that was entirely too embarrassing to even properly admit to himself.  


“So, Enjolras, are you very interested in dancing, or how did you come across me?” the guy asked, and Enjolras had to clear his head for a couple of seconds before answering, because the way inky curls were pulled back into a loose ponytail and the slight scruff made his jaw stand out honestly had his head reeling.  
  
“Uhm, well, I danced when I was younger, it’s been a long time though, and I guess I just came across a video of you once and you were so graceful that I just sort of started watching a lot of dancing shows again.” He explained, trying to downplay exactly how obsessed he was with the other man, because his embarrassment would definitely be total as soon as Grantaire found out that Enjolras watched everything he was in from dance shows to talkshows to award-shows with a fierce determination that he usually reserved for his cause and _only_ for his cause. It was slightly obsessive, really, and Courf had pointed this out (gleefully, he might add) several times.  
  
Grantaire nodded to himself, “I’m flattered.” And then there was a glass in Enjolras’ hand, and he had to wonder for a second, trying to remember what you were supposed to do with these things. He then realized that Grantaire had given him a very kind out, to pretend that he’d been overwhelmed instead of just the blushing dork he really was, so he gratefully sipped the water before sending the dancer a shy smile. Shy? When the fuck had he turned shy? He put down the glass and straightened his back, refusing to be this person, and put on his most winning smile (which had, according to Courfeyrac, a terrifyingly arousing effect on most people, but Enjolras wasn’t going to think about that right now, nope, not tonight). “So.”  
  
He was ripped out of his careful, meticulous planning of his next words when Grantaire was suddenly next to him again, and he startled slightly. “So?”  
  
Grantaire moved to stand in front of him, and Enjolras vaguely noted that music was playing – his main focus was on Grantaire’s arms, though, because all the way up and down those veiny, strong arms tattoos curled upwards and disappeared where Grantaire had left the sleeves when he rolled them up. Enjolras wanted to kiss every inch of them. “Uh. No. I’m gonna embarrass myself.” He managed, tearing his gaze from the tattoos and moved it to Grantaire’s face again – an action he immediately regretted, because there was a playful smile on Grantaire’s face, and now puppy-eyes, and Enjolras felt himself mentally turn into a small puddle of stupid, fanboying joy.  
  
“Come on, you don’t get to meet a dancer without being forced to dance, don’t be silly.” Grantaire goaded, laughing when Enjolras blushed bright again, and he was so happy that he’d had a bit of training, ‘cause at least he recognized the salsa-rhythm and when Grantaire started moving he fell into step easily. At least he remembered the basic steps. As long as Grantaire didn’t try something funny.  
  
“Not bad. You need to work a bit on your footwork, though, you’re very stiff. Are you one of those stern, regal guys? You look like you’re taken straight out of a Disney movie. Wait, are you a prince?”  
  
Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “I don’t support the monarchy, it’s an institution of inequality built on a foundation of the hard work of citizens, and it benefits only the monarchs and the nobles, it’s a terrible sort of regime.”  
  
Grantaire snorted, and Enjolras felt a very urgent need to punch him in the face. “Do you honestly still believe that monarchy works like that? I mean, I realize that it used to be pretty bad, but if you really believe that the monarchy is the basis of how fucked our society is you’re naïve. Monarchs aren’t even the richest people of the world.”  
  
Okay so maybe he didn’t want to _punch_ him as much as push him against the nearest wall and ravish him. Or have him Enjolras do it to him. Both would work very well.  
  
“I’m not saying that they are, but you have to realize that as long as we uphold that tradition we pretend that it’s okay for someone to be raised above average people merely because they were born into a specific family and that’s not okay. Don’t pretend that you don’t realize that in most countries the citizens pay so the monarchs can go on expensive vacations, did you know that in Denmark-“  
  
“I don’t care much about Denmark to be honest, but I’ve heard that they’ve got a mermaid and they like the royals there, so maybe you should focus on dancing instead of complaining?” Grantaire stated, “Dip.” And Enjolras didn’t quite understand before Grantaire was already dipping him, as though it wasn’t hard enough to do this backwards of what he’d learned already, so he clutched close to him, annoyed and turned on and impressed at the same time because Grantaire was even smarter than Enjolras had thought he was and it was frustrating when they obviously didn’t agree.  
  
Several hours, three fights, five different of dances of which Enjolras found that two of them made him exceptionally angry and the other three exceptionally horny it was time to go home, and however much he’d fought with the other man, they’d still both enjoyed themselves, and Enjolras found himself reluctant to go. “Uh. So. This was nice.”  
  
Grantaire nodded. “I hope it was everything you wanted it to be. It’s… pretty rare for me to have conversations like ours with fans. Usually I just get to know them on a very superficial level. This was really nice for me.”  
  
Enjolras mimicked his movement, trying to find words, but failing. He was a bit surprised when Grantaire went in for a hug, but he clapped the other man’s back softly and smiled at him before leaving the place, feeling a bit sad that nothing happened, but not courageous enough to just hope that Grantaire was interested and go for it. He had so many fans, it didn’t seem possible that he would take such a special interest in one of them – especially considering that the fan in question had spent most of the night fighting with him.  
  
Half an hour later he locked himself into his apartment, steeling himself as soon as he heard the first sound from the living room. “Are you decent or should I cover my eyes?”  
  
Courfeyrac groaned from in there, “Awh man, he’s still a virgin then!”  
  
A loud smack was heard and Enjolras allowed himself a smile because Combeferre was obviously getting the slapping done for him. “I’m still angry with you, Courf.” He pointed out, walking through the room and rolling his eyes when they were both lounging on the couch, Combeferre on top of Courfeyrac, resting snugly between his legs. Fortunately they were both dressed.  
  
“How did it go? Is he amazing? Are you in love with him? Is he in love with you? Did you get a puppy and call it Courf?”  
  
The blonde rolled his eyes at the questions and kept moving, walking into his room and changing out of the stupidly tight pants Courfeyrac had made him put on. A soft sound of paper crackling sounded, and he furrowed his brow, not remembering having put the receipt from the cab in there. He usually refrained from keeping things in his pockets because it messed things up so much when he did his washing.  
  
He pulled out the note, wondering at the numbers on one side and read the message on the other one.  
  
  
  
A smile spread on his lips, and he felt his cheeks flush slightly in happiness, not noticing that Courfeyrac had walked in the door and over to stand next to him before a loud squeal almost deprived him completely of his hearing and his friend snatched the note and his phone, sprinting out of the room, and before Enjolras could catch him the door to the bathroom clicked shut and locked. “I’M GONNA TEXT HIM THAT YOU SAY YES BEFORE YOU TALK YOURSELF OUT OF THIS ENJOLRAS THIS IS SO EXCITING OH MY GOD I’M SO MENTIONING THIS IN MY BEST MAN’S SPEECH!”  
  
Enjolras pounded at the door hard, “You’re not going to be my best man, Courfeyrac! Combeferre is!”  
  
A dramatic, wounded noise was heard inside the door, but Enjolras couldn’t bring himself to actually be angry with Courfeyrac, because when it all came down to it, Enjolras seemed to have gotten himself a date because of him, and that was more than enough to send butterflies through his stomach. Now he’d just have to figure out a way of dating Grantaire without strangling him.


End file.
